Untitled As Of Yet
by Child of the stars
Summary: The first HP fic I ever wrote that I actually thought good enough to post... What would happen if a wizarding family adopted a muggle? Please R/R!
1. Fantasy and the Mouse

Untitled as of yet

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Sarah dreamily turned the page of her book. It was one she had got out of the local library: a fantasy story by Patricia C Wrede, called _Dragonsbane_. She was more than two-thirds of the way through: she had found herself a comfortable, well-hidden spot in the orphanage grounds to read. Had she not, someone would have found her and reported her by now. You weren't supposed to read fiction in Mrs. Winslock's Happy Home for Orphaned Children.

Sarah was nothing much to look at. She was very tall for her ten years, and, having lived on an orphanage diet since the age of four, she was so skinny you could see her ribs. If a telephone pole had a mop of lanky, mouse-brown hair worn in two straggly plaits, she would have looked just like one.

In fact, in spite of her height, the general impression you got when you met Sarah was mouse. Mousy hair. Mousy eyes. Even the way she moved was mousy, scurrying from place to place. She seemed to try and make herself smaller, and if you talked to her for too long you got an irresistible urge to throw her a crumb of cheese. The patched, too-small orphanage uniform she wore was no help at all.

She turned another page, lost in the world of magic.

"Hey, beanpole."

She looked up. A scrawny ten-year-old boy was staring down at her, sneering. Quickly she shut the book, but he had seen.

"You aren't supposed to have those, you know," he said. "You'll get in trouble." His face curled in a malicious grin. "You already are, though. Lots of trouble. A couple are here to adopt!"

"So?" she said. "What's that got to do with me?"

No one ever wanted to adopt Sarah. She wasn't pretty, or clever: her main talent was knocking things over by accident. She'd been in trouble for that, too, lots of times. 

"_So_, they want to see you!" he said. "Beats me why. And the old woman's been looking for you for the past half-hour. I wonder what she'll do to you when she finds you?" 

She winced: the insult had hit home. Getting up slowly – she was already late, it wouldn't matter if she was later – she started to follow the boy back to the main building. Half-way along, though, in the twisty, overgrown and supposedly picturesque garden, she gave him the slip and dodged away. She had to hide her book!

Running, she headed for the back of the garden, where there was an old, disused outdoor privy – a remnant of the orphanage's Victorian history. She slammed the book down on the windowsill, breathing a silent apology – normally she treated her fantasy stories with utmost respect.

She ran out of the building again and jumped over a wall into the shrubbery. Speeding along the private paths between the bushes, she raced towards the main building. She doubted anyone else knew about this place; although many of the orphanage children had at some point climbed over the crumbling stone wall, she alone had ventured into the heart of the overgrown cluster of bushes, and she knew every inch of it.

That was the only other thing Sarah was good at: hiding, getting away. She had to be: Mrs. Winslock, the 'old woman', beat all the children on a regular basis, and Sarah on a daily one. Sarah knew every trick in the book when it came to escapology: crossing rivers, doubling back, covering tracks, the places where no one will look, and the number of things that can be done with a hairpin – these included lock-picks, untying knots, and 'false trails' – she was surprised the staff ever actually fell for that last one, but fall they did. Every time a new helper came to the orphanage – teachers, cooks, maids – Sarah would check to see how sympathetic they were. The best so far had undoubtedly been Maria, a German maid and an orphan herself, who had been sacked after she was found giving chocolate to a child who had fallen over and hurt his knee. Maria had taught Sarah one or two things, including the location of the old privy and a way to get into the chimneys. You could spend a whole afternoon in the complicated Victorian chimney network and not be found – electric fires were used instead of coal ones, so there was no danger of being burned.

Sarah tripped over a protruding root, swore, picked herself up, dusted off her uniform and raced off again. She knew that Mrs Winslock would not hurt her in the presence of potential foster parents, but she hated to think about afterwards, and entering the office panting with a dirty uniform and unkempt hair would make it worse. If that was possible.

She entered the main building at top speed, hurtled round a corner and slowed to a sedate walk as she entered the teacher's corridor. This was where all the offices were, and at the top of the corridor was the room with the sign 'Mrs. F. Winslock – Head'. This was the room where the old woman met the would-be foster-parents, and the only half-way comfortable one in the entire complex. 

Sarah pulled at her skirt and tugged her hair into a vaguely recognisable plait, and then lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

*****

Eleven-year-old Lee Jordan scowled at the fat muggle woman in the gauzy, flowery dress. It was designed for someone her age without a doubt, but also for someone with a much smaller waist, and it didn't suit her. In bored vacancy, he listened to her monotone drone.

He didn't mind that Mum wanted to adopt a girl – he knew that she couldn't have any more children, and he wouldn't mind a sister. And he didn't mind that she wanted to adopt a muggle, either – after all, she was a muggle, and the wizards in the house outnumbered her two to one. 

But she could at least have warned him first!

He had come home after the spring term at Hogwarts (with a warning slip asking that he not sneak around school in the middle of the night any more) and she had told him that she was going to adopt a muggle girl. Just like that. Dad had said that they had been considering the idea, and it wasn't definite yet, but Mum had completely disagreed. They were going to adopt a muggle, and they were going to do it that holiday. And since then, she had dragged the two of them up and down the country and through the orphanages, looking for a kid she liked.

Dad had got out of this one. It was the worst so far, decorated in various shades of dull pink and vomit-green. The few children he had seen had been wearing muddy-brown uniforms, and were led in and out of the room, almost like an auction, whilst the head recited their grades, skills and personality traits.

Lee fervently wished he had chosen to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday with the twins. 

He could tell that Mum hadn't liked any of the kids that she'd seen. Finally, the head had called for the last one – and she hadn't been there. A scruffy boy had been sent to look for her whilst the Mrs Winslock recited a speech about the orphanage's running in a dreary, sing-song tone designed to send anyone to sleep.

Finally, a knock came on the door.

"Come in," called Mrs. Winslock, in a tone of voice that promised problems for the girl for being late in the near future.

A girl entered. At first, Lee thought that she had to be at least fourteen: she was very tall. A quick glance at her face replaced her age as nearer his own, perhaps younger. She was so thin that the orphanage uniform hung off her body, and her shoulder-length, plaited hair was in a tangled mess. She was red in the face and breathing heavily, as though she had been running.

"Sarah, this is Mrs. Jordan and her son Lee. Mrs. Jordan, Lee, this is Sarah Brighton."

Lee immediately decided that he did not like Sarah. She acted like she was scared. When Mrs. Winslock spoke to her, she barely responded at all. She seemed no fun at all.

"Sarah has reasonable grades, mostly Bs and B+s," said Mrs. Winslock. "She does tend to be a bit clumsy, don't you, Sarah?"

The girl muttered something along the lines of "Yes, Mrs. Winslock." Lee kept his eyes on her as the head turned back to his mother and continued to discuss Sarah's abilities, and he saw her mouth some words towards the muggle's back. He chuckled quietly in spite of himself – the words seemed a pretty accurate description, if somewhat unlikely from the mouth of a ten-year-old. She heard him and turned to face him, hands over her mouth. He grinned broadly at her. Slowly, she uncovered her mouth and smiled back, eyes dancing.

Lee decided he liked her after all.

*****

As soon as the interview was over, Sarah went to the privy and rescued her book, then back into the shrubbery to read. She couldn't concentrate, though. Her mind kept slipping back to the mouthful of silent abuse she had sent at Mrs. Winslock's back. She was sure the strange boy had seen her. He had seemed to think it funny. Would he tell?

Finally, she gave up trying to read. Carefully she hid her book in another secret place – a hollow in a tree trunk – and went to her dormitory to think.

Mrs. Winslock was waiting for her there.

"How dare you be late? You made me look a fool!"

Mrs. Winslock had heard of the ban on corporal punishment. She wanted no part of it. "Out," she told the other girls in the dormitory. They left. One or two of them cast sympathetic glances in Sarah's way.

"Hold out your hand."

Silently, she did as she was told. _I will not scream_, she told herself. _Whatever she does, I will not scream!_

The cane swished through the air and landed across her knuckles. She winced, but stayed silent.

_Swish._

_Swish._

_Swish._

Thirty times. Each time, it seemed to land in the same place. By the time the head had finished, there were tears running down Sarah's cheeks, but she had not cried out.

It appeared that the old woman was satisfied. She left, leaving Sarah to nurse her stinging hand. Slowly, the other girls came back in, talking in subdued voices.

*****

"So," said Mrs. Jordan, leaning back in her seat. "Another unfruitful journey, and our search continues."

They were sitting on the Knight Bus, the scenery flashing by outside.

"I dunno, Mum," said Lee. "I quite liked that last one."

"What, the ten-year-old? Sarah Brighton? I'd say she was the worst! She acted like a mouse."

Lee grinned. "I wouldn't say that." He told her what he had seen. Mrs. Jordan shared her son's sense of humour, and she was chuckling too by the time he had finished.

"All right, so she's not a mouse," she said. "But would you want her as a sister? It's an important decision, you know…"

"Isn't there a sort of trial period when you adopt from a muggle orphanage anyway?" asked Lee.

"Yee-es, I suppose so," replied his mother. "Adopt her on trial, you mean?"

"Why not?"

"We'll have to ask your dad…"

Lee grinned. He knew his mother. Maybe Dad was the wizard, but Mum was in charge and she let everyone know it. If he'd convinced her, it was as good as done.


	2. Adoptions and Hairpins

Untitled As Of Yet – Chapter 2

Adoptions and Hairpins

A/N: I forgot to put an A/N in the last part, so I'll put one in this.

First of all, I have _no_ idea where this is heading. All I know is that there are going to be hairpins and fireworks involved.

Secondly, my personal rant: Why are there so many fics about muggles turning out to be wizards? What's wrong with muggles turning out to be muggles? 

Thirdly, my other personal rant: In all the fics I've met him, Lee Jordan is either commentating on the quidditch or dying. He's the twins' best friend! Surely he deserves a little more than that!

Disclaimer: I am doing this for fun, and making no profit out of it at all: please don't sue me!

*****

Sarah stared around the office for the second time in a week. Laughing-eyed, brown-haired Mrs. Jordan smiled at her. Lee, disrespectfully spread-eagled in a large, plush-upholstered chair, smiled at her. Even Mrs. Winslock was smiling, although her mouth was tight around the corners and the smile did not spread to her eyes. 

Something was definitely wrong. In a moment she was going to wake up and this would all be a dream. It was a rule indisputable as gravity. No one ever wanted to adopt Sarah Brighton!

And yet, here she was, in the office again, surrounded by smiles. A heap of paper lay on the desk, signatures and promises and legal scrawl. Mrs. Winslock was shaking hands with Mrs. Jordan.

"Well, Sarah. You have been fostered by Mrs. Jordan here.On trial."

It seemed to Sarah that the odious woman stressed those last two words slightly. _It's only a trial,_ she seemed to be saying. _As soon as they see what you're like, they'll bring you straight back._

_I hate you,_ she thought angrily at Mrs. Winslock. _I hate you I hate you I HATE YOU!_

Seeing that no reply was forthcoming, the head continued what she had been saying.

"Understand that this is not permanent. At the slightest sign of misbehaviour, the Jordans may bring you back."

_And I'll be waiting for you when they do,_ Sarah finished for her, silently.

"You must behave perfectly. You represent this home, and you will _not_ let me down."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah noticed Lee frowning and Mrs. Jordan shifting uncomfortably in her chair. She was a little surprised: this lecture was horrible, but not unexpected. Nearly everyone she'd known had behaved like this to her; she was used to it. They seemed to think something was wrong.

The head finished her monologue. "Very well, Sarah. You may go and pack your things. I need to discuss a couple of things with Mrs. Jordan here."

_Yeah. Me. And what things? All I have is orphanage uniform, and I certainly don't want that! That and the library books – which I'd better return. I wonder if they'll let me stop off at the library? I want to say goodbye to Kate as well…_

Kate Barnes was the librarian. She was a middle-aged woman with red hair that showed off several grey streaks and twinkling brown eyes that shone through fancy, sparkling glasses. Kate was one of the few allies that Mrs. Winslock hadn't been able to get rid of, and in her light, slightly odd voice – accented as though she had spent a lot of time living in the North of England, maybe even Scotland – she had consoled Sarah when she had had a particularly hard beating, and recommended to her the best fantasy books. _Dragonsbane_ had been one of her recommendations. _I never got to finish that one,_ thought Sarah ruefully.

All this passed through Sarah's mind as she left the warm room, moving stiffly as though her legs had forgotten how to walk.

*****

Lee started up after Sarah immediately after she left the room, then remembered where he was. "Mum, can I leave?" he asked, pausing by the door.

She nodded. "Run along."

As he closed the door behind him, he caught Mrs. Winslock saying "How _nice_ to see that your son is so well behaved…" 

He grinned inwardly. _What a suck-up._

There was only one way to go: the reception room was right at the end of a corridor. He got to the end and the corridor split: one corridor, brightly painted, led to the way he had come in; the other, whitewashed rather than painted, led off in a twisty curve. He glimpsed a bit of brown hurrying around a corner down there, and set off after it. Chasing the sight of brown, he followed it along several twisted corridors. 

He fetched up by a small classroom marked 'Hist.'. He looked around, saw no brown, and realized that he was lost. It then occurred to him that the orphanage uniform was brown so he'd probably been lost all along, perhaps even following several different people.

_Have to find my way out of this one. Oh well, won't take long._

Lee had managed to navigate Hogwarts castle, where staircases led somewhere different on a Friday and doors had to be asked nicely to open and tended to be one-way and the wrong way, for two terms. After that, the sprawling muggle orphanage would be no trouble at all.

Or so he thought. Lee had forgotten to take into account the fact that there were no ghosts around, unless you counted the orphans, who scurried past every once in a while, ignoring his every attempt to get directions. There were no portraits either; even if there had been, Lee knew that they wouldn't be any help. Muggle pictures always remained still.

After a while, he knew he would never find his way out of this one. Every corridor looked exactly like all the rest: whitewashed, unmarked, unpatterned, with plain grey linoleum floors that could be easily washed.

He tripped suddenly, landed on the smooth floor and skidded. Muttering under his breath, he picked himself up and walked back to see what he had tripped on.

It was a small wire hairpin.

Leaving it there, he went on along the corridor. He turned a corner and tripped again. Once more, he went back and looked at what had tripped him. 

It was another wire hairpin.

Surprised, he picked it up and went back to where he had left the last one. Picking that one up as well, he compared the two. They were exactly the same; as far as he could tell, the only interesting thing about either was that they'd both been dropped in the middle of a corridor inside an otherwise clean building.

He shrugged, and went on along the corridor where he had found the second, this time keeping an eye on his feet. Sure enough, there was another… and another… and another! Intrigued, he followed them along. He found the last at the very foot of a large green door. Tentatively, he opened it.

A plump, middle-aged black woman was standing at the sink, whistling as she washed dishes. She heard the door open, and turned to face him.

"They don' norm'ly let visitors into the kitchens," she said irritably. "I was busy."

"Uh," said Lee, "I found these…"

He held out his collection of wire hairpins. There was a sizeable number of them.

The woman laughed out loud. "Kid, you foun' anot'er of Sarah's trails!" 

Lee's face must have looked puzzled.

"Sarah Brighton," the woman explained. "N'orphan. The old woman beats she whenever she can find she, so she leave these trails of pins around for they – and she normally far 'way by the time they get the end of 'em."

"D'you know where Sarah Brighton is now?" he asked.

"Nobody ever know where Sarah be," she replied. "She got more hideys 'n any other kid in this hole. But ya might wanna try the gel's dormy. Out that there door, secon' onna left, take the middle fork and you're right there."

"Thanks," said Lee.

The woman started whistling again as Lee left the kitchen.

*****

Sarah had realized that Lee was following her almost straight away, of course. She shook him off pretty quickly, and left him at the beginning of one of her hairpin trails. She had a lot of fun with those trails.

She then took the quick route to the girl's dormitory – through the chimneys. By the time she came out in the mercifully empty girl's dormitory, she was black with years of accumulated dust and dirt. She grimaced as she brushed a couple of blackened feathers off her pinafore – in her haste, she must have climbed over one of the near-fossilized corpses of pigeons that occasionally dropped down the chimneys. 

She picked up a feather, and realized, surprised, that it was hardly dirty at all by comparison with some of the stuff in the chimneys, and very soft. Had it come from a living bird? One that was moulting, perhaps?

It was a mystery that would have to wait until later. She had to pack.

Taking out a plastic bag from a store that was kept in every orphanage room, she took the revolting brown pinafores and white shirts from her drawer in the chest. Then she looked at her pile of library books – some of them very much overdue, but Kate never sent overdue letters to the orphanage as Mrs Winslock opened all the mail. They were all fantasy stories: books by Diana Wynne Jones, Tamora Pierce, Terry Pratchett, Patricia C. Wrede, Phillip Pullman.

She would never be able to carry them all, she realized. She would have to enlist someone's help, and there was no one she would trust with the precious books.

"Need help?" asked someone. Sarah turned and saw Lee Jordan standing in the doorway. _Damn_, she thought. _I thought I shook him off!_

"Well?"

Sarah decided that there was no other way she could shift all the books. "Yes please," she said. "I have to get all these books back to the library, and 'til then I've got to carry them."

He looked at the pile of books. "You'll probably need another bag. You have tons there!"

She shook her head. "The old woman would notice. We're not supposed to read fiction. In fact, she'll probably notice anyway. I shouldn't have taken so many out all at once."

He picked up some books. "Charmed Life by Diana Wynne Jones. Emperor Mage by Tamora Pierce. The Colour Of Magic by Terry Pratchett. You're into fantasy books, aren't you?"

"And if I am?" she asked, annoyed.

"Nothing. Here, I'll help."

*****

The car had been borrowed from the Ministry – to be more precise, from the Department Of Wizard/Muggle Relationships, who almost all agreed that a wizard family adopting a muggle child would be a very good idea. 

It was purple.

Not just any purple, either – it was the deep, rich shade normally associated with blackcurrant juice. 

'Muggle-born squib' Mrs. Lisa Jordan was well aware that it stood out like a firework against the ordinary muggle cars. Sometimes she thought it would be a good idea if the Ministry hired a few muggles. That way, they might just stop making mistakes the way they did.

She slid comfortably into the drivers seat and turned the key in the ignition, smiling. She hadn't driven a car since she had married Arnold, and was looking forward to this short journey. She had point-blank refused all the Ministry's offers of a driver.

"Get in, Sarah, Lee. In the back."

The one plastic bag which contained all Sarah's possessions was on the passenger seat beside her. It was pitiful, really. Lisa was only sorry that they couldn't adopt every child in the orphanage to get them out of reach of that dreadful woman. Lee seemed perfectly happy that he had suddenly acquired a younger sister, for which she was thankful. Life with Arnold Jordan was hectic enough without an eleven-year-old wizard slouching around in a sulk.

_I wonder what she'll do when she finds out?_ thought Mrs. Jordan. She herself had screamed in Arnold's face, fainted, come round in a couple of hours and almost knocked him out when he had told her of his decision to leave her. After that, he had acquiesced and the wedding had gone ahead as planned. Lisa knew that many wizard/muggle relationships did not work out nearly as well, and she considered herself lucky.

"Umm – Mrs Jordan?" asked Sarah's timid voice from behind her.

"Call me Mum," said Lisa. "Or Lisa, if you prefer."

"Thank you, Mrs. J- Lisa. Er… could we stop off at the library? Only I've got some books I need to return."

"Of course!"

**** *

A/N 2: My thanks go to Lauren, w&m_law (I know nothing about Les Miserables, it was unintentional), Sidra Astro, Neva, Snapa, Tazy Silverpen, GoldenPhoenix, LiLi (who went around ALL of my original fics and reviewed them as welll… thank you, LiLi!), setzkitten, Rose Black and specially Headmistress Abby, without whom I'd never have come to ff.n in the first place. Thank you for reviewing! You guys are the best! 


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